


Borrowed Time

by henhao



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, F/F, grappling with immortality, just sad times all around, lots of regret
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23233297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henhao/pseuds/henhao
Summary: If she squeezes her eyes shut and focuses as hard as she can, she can still picture Edelgard’s smile, her lilac eyes, the way her brow would scrunch up whenever she was concentrated (which was a lot of the time). But the image never seems to come together, and Edelgard’s face remains a ghostly, fractured apparition in the peripheral vision of her mind’s eye, just as it has been for the last several centuries.-Silver Snow route, with slight alterations. Byleth lives, and she regrets.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	1. Dawn of a Miserable Morning

The only time she sees Edelgard is in her dreams. 

_Bodies lay scattered around the throne; Byleth spots Hubert’s mangled corpse and is glad that his matted black hair covers his face so that she does not need to see the expression he made upon death. Petra and Dorothea are huddled next to each other on the ground. They would look peaceful if it were not for the blood pooling from their bodies and staining the carpet a dark crimson. Byleth looks away, then. She has killed hundreds, perhaps even thousands of men as the Ashen Demon. Yet somehow, the sight of her students (_ former _students, she reminds herself) in the same state has her swallowing the lump in her throat._

_They had all died in desperation trying to protect Edelgard and it was all in vain, for the emperor now kneeled before her with her head bowed._

_Everything in her screamed at her to stop. To sink to the ground with her and offer Edelgard her hand. To beg with her, plead with her that there was another way. But in the end, the cold, brutal logic that had carried Edelgard to the very end of a war she was losing won out._

_Byleth raised her sword and struck her down._

She jolts awake, tangled in her sheets and soaked in sweat. She’s used to the dreams by now, but this one had been particularly painful; in this one, her brain had chosen to pay particular attention to the crack in Edelgard’s voice as she said her last words. Byleth hates it, hates it with all the emotion her unbeating heart can muster: this feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach that hasn’t gone away in over six hundred years. Despite her best efforts, the image of Edelgard’s face vanishes from her mind once again. If she squeezes her eyes shut and focuses as hard as she can, she can still picture Edelgard’s smile, her lilac eyes, the way her brow would scrunch up whenever she was concentrated (which was a lot of the time). But the image never seems to come together, and Edelgard’s face remains a ghostly, fractured apparition in the peripheral vision of her mind’s eye, just as it has been for the last several centuries.

Sometimes Byleth wonders if she’s once again in a deep sleep, and if the centuries that have gone by are the dream—any moment now, she’ll wake up back in the Holy Mausoleum and maybe she’ll make a different choice this time-

But no, she thinks as she opens her eyes and looks at the plain, little room she’s found herself in. She’s not in Enbarr or the Holy Mausoleum. Enbarr isn’t even _called_ Enbarr anymore. She’s in a quaint bed and breakfast in the middle of nowhere, and Flayn is pounding at the door with a familiar fervor. She had been less quiet with her night terrors than she’d thought.

Byleth quickly untangles herself from the sheets and stumbles less than gracefully to the door, fumbling with the lock before it opens to reveal Flayn, still in her pajamas. Flayn’s outward appearance hasn’t changed much since her days at Garreg Mach, but the past six hundred years have seen her mature from the soft-spoken, innocent student Byleth once taught. “Same dream?” Flayn asks, her voice laced with concern and apprehension. 

“…Same dream. I’ll get dressed and come down to breakfast.” Although Byleth feels sick to her stomach, her voice does not waver. Not once. 

“Okay,” Flayn says curtly, knowing not to push her from experience. Byleth shuts the door and listens for the sounds of Flayn’s footsteps walking away. Only then do her hands shake, and she feels the weight of six hundred long years come crashing down on her at once.

-

Garreg Mach, or more accurately, what used to be Garreg Mach is a couple hour's walk away from the inn Byleth and Flayn had stayed at for the night. There were faster ways to get there, but Byleth had insisted on traveling by foot. It was nostalgic, in a sense. That was how she had arrived at the monastery as a fresh-faced, clueless young woman who didn’t yet know tragedy.

Byleth is grateful for Flayn’s idle chit chat during their little hike. Flayn chirps on about the tasteless pancakes they had at the inn, the books Seteth sent her last month, the operas she’s seen recently. As the walls of Garreg Mach loom ever closer in the horizon, Flayn’s voice is the only thing stopping Byleth from turning around and heading right back where she came from. 

By the time the pair finally reach the entrance to the crumbling monastery, Byleth is beginning to feel light-headed. She swallows the sudden lump in her throat as Flayn moves to tear aside the garish neon yellow “DO NOT ENTER” tape that someone had taken the liberty of wrapping around the iron gates. She feels at war with herself, just as she had those centuries ago when she made the wrong choice. One part of Byleth wants to run away and never come back to this place. The other part desperately needs some form of closure, no matter what it takes. 

As if she can read her thoughts, Flayn looks up at Byleth with sympathetic but unyielding eyes. “We’ve come all this way, By. Believe me, I know how hard this is for you. But may I remind you that this was _your_ idea, and a good one. You can’t burst into tears every time you think about the past you’ve been avoiding for a millennia!”

“…I do not burst into tears and it hasn’t been a millennia.” Not for the first time, Byleth wonders when Flayn became the one scolding her instead of the other way around. “Of course,” she sighs, “I know you’re right. But my nerves are already shot just looking at the place. What am I going to do if...if we don’t find anything?” 

“It won’t happen,” Flayn says firmly, taking Byleth’s hands in her own. “We _are_ going to find something of Edelgard’s. Something that you can hold on to. I know it.” It’s the warmth of Flayn’s hands and the unwavering confidence in her voice that grounds Byleth from the incessant buzzing in her head. In these moments, she thanks the Goddess that Flayn, the girl she saved those hundreds of years ago, is there when everyone she has ever known is long gone. 

Byleth looks up from the gravel road to meet Flayn’s eyes. They’re filled with melancholy, sympathy, determination, all the millions of conflicting emotions that Byleth herself feels but not pity. Never pity. 

“Maybe then you can start living again, By. We have to try. Come on, the sun will set in just a few hours. We have time.” 

With that, the two push open the rusted gates of the monastery with some effort and slip inside.

_It’s going to be a long day,_ Byleth thinks. 

_-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is my first fic ever so feedback is appreciated. also I totally forgot that Hubert doesn't die in the throne room (whoops) so just pretend you do not see it <3
> 
> EDIT 8/13 Decided to revamp this fic and rewrote some parts of chap 1


	2. The Girl Can't Help It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Byleth thinks a lot. Flayn disapproves.

The smell of rotting wood and decay hits her as she walks from the marketplace to the entrance hall. It had once been bustling, full of life. Byleth can still picture Anna standing in her corner trying to sell her wares to anyone passing by, the ghostly forms of the crowds as they walked from one stall to the next. 

God, she’s starting to feel that familiar itch in her throat. She had known coming back to Garreg Mach would stir up old memories in her. She had known that it would be painful. But not like this—here she stands, missing people whose names she had never even known. 

Byleth shakes her head from her thoughts and rushes to catch up to Flayn, who is already far ahead of her. Navigation is difficult—large chunks of rubble and shards of glass scatter the ground, and Flayn, the less graceful of the two, trips over pieces of debris several times only for Byleth to catch her just in time. The great arched ceilings of the monastery, which Byleth often found herself admiring in her days as a professor, now have noticeable cracks; some parts have even collapsed, leaving gaping holes in the once pristine architecture. 

Garreg Mach as it stands is, frankly, a hazard. How it hasn’t totally collapsed yet is a miracle in itself (perhaps the result of Rhea’s still-lingering magic keeping the place upright, Byleth thinks). Yet despite the dull ache in her heart at being here, it feels more like home than any place Byleth has lived for the past six centuries. 

Flayn and Byleth walk in silence for a while, reliving their academy days in an academy that hasn’t housed students in…what was it, over five hundred years? Byleth cannot recall. History to an undying being such as herself is a blur of never-ending conflict, momentary times of peace, then more conflict. Byleth has seen war after war after the “War Against Seiros,” what historians had aptly named the bloody conflict Edelgard had kicked off that fateful day in the Holy Mausoleum. She’s sure by now that she’s spilled far more blood than Edelgard did in her short life. Sometimes, she feels guilt. Right now, overwhelmed with other thoughts in the only place she ever truly called home, she feels nothing.

They pass by the dining hall, or what had once been the dining hall. It is now completely inaccessible, the entire structure having collapsed who knows how long ago. Byleth sighs, remembering the vast amounts of food she used to shove down her throat there on her days off. Edelgard always used to find her enormous appetite a bit appalling to a noble of her status, but she could never tear her curious eyes away from Byleth as the woman in question scarfed down her fifth saghert and cream of the day.

_ Crap _ , she was thinking about Edelgard again. They haven’t even reached the Officer’s Academy yet, and Edelgard is once again at the forefront of her mind. As if on cue, Flayn turns to look at her with narrowed eyes. “Were you thinking of you-know-who just now?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Byleth says with what she hopes is her best poker face. She’s had that straight-faced, blank stare perfected since birth, but of course Flayn sees right through her. Spending six hundred years by somebody’s side can do that.

“Oh Byleth,” Flayn says with an exasperated sigh. “What a lovestruck fool you are, even now.” 

“When did your words become so harsh, Flayn? You almost remind me of Lysithea now…”

“Because, Byleth, I may be your closest friend but sometimes even I tire of your nonsense. Now come.” Flayn leads her away towards the Officer’s Academy. Byleth’s heart would skip a beat if it could at the sight of the old Black Eagles classroom. She has  _ not _ prepared herself emotionally to be there just yet, but she feels her legs betray her as they dutifully follow Flayn. 

The classroom looks...pretty much how Byleth remembers it. Sure, the wallpaper is flaking off from the walls and the smell of rot hangs in the air but it’s still the classroom she spent her evenings in grading homework and trying to decipher Linhardt’s chicken scratch handwriting. She can already hear Flayn sifting through debris, trying to find what she came here for. Byleth pays this no mind, already knowing that Flayn likely won’t uncover anything of use. Instead, as she traces her fingers over the edge of her old desk, she finds herself thinking of happier times.

-

_ “Remember the last battle formation we discussed well for the exam next week,” Byleth called out as her students shuffled out of the classroom. Bernadetta had already scurried out as fast as she could back to the safety of her dorm room. Caspar was hoisting a still half-asleep Linhardt over his shoulder as the taller boy yawned. Dorothea and Petra, who had become closer and closer as of late, chatted amicably about the cuisine in Brigid before saying goodbye to their professor.  _

_ That just left…Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Hubert as the only students still in the classroom. Byleth raised her eyebrows expectantly at the latter two of the trio. Perhaps they wanted to join her for lunch, or- _

_ “Pay me no mind, professor!” Ferdinand said eagerly, interrupting her train of thought. “I am only here to challenge Edelgard to a much-needed duel after class. Then we can finally settle which one of us is truly superior to the-” _

_ “Silence, you fool.” The look on Hubert’s face was downright murderous. But then again, he always looked murderous. “You will not be bothering Lady Edelgard with your insolence any further.” With that, he dragged Ferdinand out of the classroom by the arm, the boy yelping at Hubert’s surprisingly strong grip. Byleth almost felt sorry for Ferdinand as his weak protests about how this kind of treatment was completely unbecoming for a noble faded away.  _

_ “I hope those two don’t end up killing each other,” Edelgard said, breaking the small, comfortable silence they had shared once the two boys had gone.  _

_ “I have faith that they won’t,” Byleth replied matter-of-factly. “In fact, I think Hubert has begun warming up to him, and to me. Just last month he was sticking around after every class to interrogate me and threaten to end my bloodline, but now he even agrees to drink tea with me on occasion.”  _

_ “Now that is surprising,” Edelgard said. “Oh? Professor, is that a smile I see?” _

_ Byleth’s eyes widened by a fraction. Yes, she was smiling, to her own surprise. It was strange—she smiled more in the past couple months at Garreg Mach than she had her entire life. _

_ Edelgard chuckled lightly, a smile gracing her own features. Byleth felt a curious flipping sensation in her stomach at the sight, but paid it no mind. “It is wonderful to see you smiling, my teacher. You do it more and more these days.” Her eyes twinkled. Byleth felt her stomach flip again. Weird. “But no more of that. You wanted to see me after class for a reason, Professor. What is it?” _

_ “You have been quite persistent in asking me for additional lessons in axe training for the past week. However, I want you to practice some beginner black magic spells today.”  _

_ Now it was Edelgard’s turn to look shocked. “Excuse me?” she sputtered. Byleth had never seen Edelgard so lost for words before. It’s kind of cute, she thought. _

_ “You heard me correctly, Edelgard. I believe you may have a talent for it.”  _

_ “What…what makes you say that? I’ve always been hopeless at magic but excel at axemanship. Furthermore, why do the Black Eagles need another magic user? Hubert and Dorothea are already far more advanced in reason than I,” Edelgard demanded. “I see no point in this.”  _

_ Byleth sighed. She had known Edelgard would put up a fight. “You are the one who asked for additional lessons, Edelgard. I simply think learning a new skill would be more beneficial to you; you are already unequivocally the most talented axe user in your year.” Edelgard’s cheeks flushed a little at the praise.  _

_ “As for Hubert and Dorothea,” Byleth continued after committing the image to memory, “they are certainly talented mages. But battle is unpredictable. What if they become separated from you, or have their own enemies to deal with? What if you lose your weapon?” Edelgard scoffed at that, then tried to pass it off as a cough. “I’m being serious, Edelgard. It is a real situation that can and will occur. When it happens, not if, I hope that what I have taught you will be of benefit.”  _

_ “I…never thought of it that way. I see your point, Professor. I acquiesce,” Edelgard said, with a clear note of reluctance in her voice.  _

_ “Good,” Byleth said. Was she smiling again? Being around Edelgard filled her with this strange, infectious energy that she could not explain. Her cheeks hurt.  _

_ “Now let the lesson begin.”  _

-

“There’s nothing,” Flayn calls out, breaking Byleth out of her reverie. Byleth turns to see that Flayn has overturned every corner of her old classroom while she was busy staring off into space.

“Now don’t give up hope just yet,” Flayn says, noting the slight disappointment in Byleth’s face. “We still have one more place of interest.” 

“I know,” Byleth replies. “And...just to reassure you, I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Your pep-talk earlier actually helped. Thank you, Flayn. For being here, even though I know you don’t want to be.” 

“...It’s the least I could do for the person who saved my life,” Flayn replies, almost sheepishly. But enough about me. If you’re ready, lead the way.” 

They make their way out of the classroom, trampling on the overgrown weeds that have infested the grounds of the monastery. There’s a heaviness to the air now, Byleth thinks. Like the universe knows that it’s now or never. She will find what she seeks, or she won’t.

No matter what happens, she’ll just have to live with it.

-

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic ever so feedback is appreciated. also I totally forgot that Hubert doesn't die in the throne room (whoops) so just pretend you do not see it <3
> 
> EDIT 8/13 Decided to revamp this fic and rewrote some parts of chap 1


End file.
